Pets
by hadaka
Summary: Oddly enough, Agon's pet is a butterfly. kirskipkat's Pets prompt.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** This is **yaoi**. Also, **explicit**, **non-con dressed up as consent under duress** (which is also rape...?), and also kind of **fucking** **messed up**. I want to rate it as **MA**, but it won't give me the option.

**Summary:** Oddly enough, Agon's pet is a butterfly.

An answer to the Pets prompt from kirskipkat, from the es21_yaoi lj.

**A/N:** **Explicit**, **explicit**, **explicit**.

Honestly, when I read the parts of the manga with Agon in it, my first thought was "Dude, this is what a _biboi_ sociopath who's kind of good at football looks like." Srsly! I am firmly of the belief that Agon is fucked in the head. Don't get me wrong, I still like him as a supporting character and a plot device...but I bet he tortured and dismembered small animals as a child.

I'm also battling recurrent eye infections, therefore depressed and on meds. When I'm down, I write trashy fetish sex. I should just change my handle to **eyesh_porn**.

Sankyuus to everyone who wished me well! I am SO BEHIND on everything.

Is this where I sit up and beg for reviews? Because I am ALL ABOUT THAT.

* * *

The first time Sena sees the butterfly, he has no idea what to say.

"That..."

"Che." A hand on Sena's shoulder pushes him down. The other hand undoes a belt. "Ignore it."

But Sena can't, because it's such a strange thing to see in this room of all rooms. All black and shimmering blue-green, shaped like two curved wings over a fantail. It's flapping desperately around in the birdcage in its corner, rattling the wires.

"But—how—"

"Ignore it."

Fingers clench in Sena's hair, taking a handful in a grip that isn't really painful. Sena obediently opens his mouth.

The butterfly won't settle. It just keeps thrashing, wings thumping softly. In the dim light of the room, where daylight outlines the closed blinds, the butterfly is just a small, black shape, shining every so often like fluttering silk, flailing helplessly against its walls.

The room is filled with the beat of the butterfly's wings and wet sucking noises.

"Leave him."

Sena closes his eyes. He's glad he can't answer.

"Leave him and come here."

_You liar,_ Sena wants to say. _You liar. Look what you've done to me. Look what you've made me into._

Instead, he swallows hard and the hand in his hair becomes painful.

_"Fuck."_

Then Sena is suddenly gasping for air as he's slammed down onto the table behind him. Things—magazines, an iPod Nano, some other stuff he can't see—go clattering to the floor.

Now there are fingers touching him where he hates these fingers touching him the most, touching somewhere only one person in the world should be allowed to touch, and Sena has to bite his lip to keep from screaming.

"Leave him."

_Fuck you,_ thinks Sena. He's disappointed to feel the hot rush of tears in his eyes, and turns his head in hopes of hiding them.

A hand on his chin pulls his face around again. "Haaa."

There's a mouth on his, and Sena closes his eyes again and tries to loosen his muscles, tries to take the tension out of his legs, because maybe this will hurt less if he can just _relax_—

"Agon," he whispers against the mouth.

For a moment, everything is quiet except for the butterfly struggling in its cage. Agon hangs over him in the low, fractured light coming from the blinds, still with what looks like surprise.

Sena's never said his name there before.

"Agon," says Sena, "I don't want to come here anymore."

Agon's eyes narrow. His jaw tenses, his lips part over clenched teeth. Rage seethes through his look.

But he only makes a scornful noise under his breath. "Fine, slut. I'll just send Unko-chan the little movie we made—"

Sena wants to throw up. "You—you said you wouldn't."

"I said, 'As long as you spread your legs for me like a—'"

"I did. I have. It's—it's been three weeks—"

"What do you know, slut? You haven't managed to bore me yet."

A finger forces into him, too fast and too rough. Sena can't quite hold back the strangled whimper, and he can't stop his body from contorting against Agon's. It's like pushing against a concrete wall.

"Your own fault, slut." Agon's mouth follows his as Sena turns his head. His breath smells of beer—he's been drinking more lately. "You shouldn't have been such a pretty fuck."

The finger inside of him goes rigid and Agon's arm holds him down as Sena's belt is undone and his pants pulled off.

"Agon," Sena says again, and winces as the finger works, "I don't—I don't wa-_ant_—"

Agon's unbuckling his own belt. "That—nnn—isn't what you said—"

"That was you." The nausea is getting worse. "That was you—I was drunk, and you took me to your—"

"Me?" Agon's teeth scrape the skin of Sena's neck. "It was me? It was me begging 'Fuck me, please, fuck me harder, harder—'"

Sena has to bite his tongue, has to grit his teeth, has to hold his breath and look away, because he knows better than to say what comes rushing to his lips, to shout, _I thought you were Unsui!_

Agon goes still. Sena isn't looking, but he can feel Agon's eyes on him and there's a cold, sharp silence.

Agon's not stupid.

The finger pulls out so suddenly Sena gasps, and then Agon is pushing his knees farther apart with a hip and one hand while the other reaches to the right, where the nightstand is.

"I don't want to do this anymore," says Sena. He's staring at the ceiling. He feels numb. "Please let me stop coming here."

He hears gel slathering over skin. But that's wrong—

Sena tries to sit up, eyes widening with alarm. "No—where's the—"

Agon yanks him down by the knees. The back of Sena's head hits the surface of the table and his shirt pulls up into his armpits.

"Wait—wait—" Sena's almost panicked. His fingers can't find a grip on Agon's arms. "Use a—use a condom—"

Agon's fingers dig into Sena's throat.

"Like Unko-chan?" His mouth is so close. All Sena can smell is alcohol. "Like you make Unko-chan use them?"

Sena doesn't. They stopped months ago, when they'd been together for a year.

"You said you'd use a condom," whispered Sena, gasping through Agon's hold. "You—you promised to—"

It hurts more than it usually does. Sena can't help the sounds he's making, or the way his body thrashes without his meaning it to. It's a cold, slick pain, the abrasion of skin against skin instead of skin against latex, stretching him open. He tries to keep his mouth shut and his eyes closed, to turn his head away from the hot breath in his ear and on his neck, the thrusting pressure, the way Agon's abdomen presses painfully down on Sena's own genitals.

Unsui is always gentle.

"Come here," Agon breathes in his ear. "Come _here_."

Sena's thinking about the plans he has with Unsui that night. They're going for a drink with Mamo-nee, Suzu-chan, and Monta, and then they're going to a concert by the river with Yamabushi-san and Ikkyu. Sena's feeling jealous in advance, because he thinks Yamabushi-san has a crush on Unsui, and if he can just get out of spending the whole night talking to Ikkyu so that he can keep at least half an eye on Unsui—

_"Sena."_

He's lifted from the table. Agon's arms are corded with muscle, powerful, and Sena's heart almost stops at the fear of being completely in their grasp.

Sena's cheek presses against Agon's shoulder. Their skin is slick and salted with sweat. Agon is still in Sena, and the pain worsens when Sena's back is put against a wall. His legs go around Agon's waist out of sheer reaction.

They're against the wall facing the window, at a right angle from the door. The bed is to one side and a shelf full of magazines and DVDs to the other. Sena can see his belt, pants, and underwear in a heap at the foot of the bed.

"Come here," Agon is panting. "Come..._here_..."

An arm slides beneath Sena's leg, to hold him up. Sena doesn't want to touch Agon more than he has to, but then Agon pulls back and Sena has to clutch at Agon's shoulders, his hair, to keep from falling.

Agon's mouth presses against his.

Sena's so surprised he doesn't react. He stares, wide-eyed, as Agon lifts his head to look at him, their noses almost touching.

"Do it for me," says Agon. Demands. His eyes are—they're clear and intent, for once empty of anger or contempt and simply determined and...something. Something else, that Sena doesn't recognize. "Do it for me like you do it for him."

Do...? For—?

Agon's mouth is on his again.

It's just their lips, pressed together. Agon's eyes are open, he's looking at Sena. Sena keeps his mouth closed, because he can't stand the thought of kissing Agon, kissing Agon with the same mouth with which he's going to go home and kiss—

Kiss—

_No,_ thinks Sena, horrified. _No. I won't._

He isn't sure what kind of look is on his face. But he sees the anger spark in Agon's eyes, sees the fury blow to life in Agon's face, and then Agon is moving again, ramming himself into Sena's body, still wearing that incomprehensible look he keeps on Sena's face even as he's thrusting into him.

Sena is whimpering, but he won't open his mouth, he _won't_, because there are some things he won't give up, because this is _not_ something Agon can have, even if he really hurts Sena this time, even if he—

Agon leans forward and _bites_ into the flesh between Sena's neck and shoulder.

"NO—" Sena jerks back, but Agon's teeth are in his skin and he cries out at the pain, making high-pitched noises in the back of his mouth. "NO—"

Agon won't let go.

_I can't hide this,_ Sena's thinking. There are tears on his face, though he isn't crying. _I can't hide this. I can't hide this._

Sena goes limp. His hands are on Agon's shoulders and his head is in the bend of Agon's neck, because there's nowhere else for them to go.

The thrusts become rougher. The teeth ease their grip on Sena's neck.

When Agon comes, Sena feels it as the terrible press of Agon's arms around him and a sudden rush of heat where Agon is in him.

Sena's back scrapes against the wall when Agon goes to his knees. His legs are sprawled out to either side of Agon and he can feel a dull ache that means he won't be walking for a while. He'll be terribly bruised later.

Agon straightens up, breathing _haaa_ through his mouth. He sweeps the dreads out of his face with both hands and looks down at Sena with an expression that isn't quite a leer, isn't quite satisfaction. The sleeveless shirt he's wearing clings to him, damp with sweat, and there's a bit of blood smeared in the corner of his lip.

"Do it for me, slut," says Agon. "Do it and you don't have to come back."

Agon is a liar. Sena knows this.

"I'll erase the file, too."

Everything he says is worthless.

"What, fucking slut? You can't do it?"

Sena pushes himself up on his arms. He's still on Agon, Agon is still in him, and Sena sits up in Agon's lap and throws his arms around Agon's neck.

"You're a liar," he hisses, glaring through his tears. "I hate you."

And then Sena kisses him.

Agon's head pulls back, as if he's taken by surprise. An arm comes up around Sena's back.

_Unsui, _thinks Sena, desperately, as if it's a prayer. _Unsui, Unsui, thisisUnsui._

Unsui. Who is kind and loving. Unsui, who was so careful and nervous the first time he made love to Sena, the first time either of them had done anything in their lives. Who never hurts Sena the way Agon hurts him, who is so gentle every time, who holds Sena close and strokes his hair until Sena falls asleep. Who says embarrassing things like _Don't ever leave me._ and _You're so beautiful._ when he thinks Sena is sleeping and can't hear him.

Who closed and locked the front door after Sena had brought in the last box of his things and then caught Sena up in his arms, laughing into his hair, _Now I don't have to share you with anyone._

Sena's face is hot with tears. He's kissing Unsui, a kiss slow and intimate, telling him with lips and tongue and breath, _I love you._ He's touching Unsui's face, his neck, he's murmuring and sighing against Unsui's unmoving mouth—

Unsui, who kisses him softly, thoughtfully, as if he could do it forever. Who doesn't suddenly crush his mouth to Sena's, opening it greedily for more. Who doesn't taste like alcohol and blood. Who doesn't grip Sena by the hair and the back of the neck, holding him too tightly, his tongue too demanding in Sena's mouth—

Sena tears himself out of Agon's arms.

They come apart. The dull ache turns to a sharp pain. Sena begins to stand, has his knees give out beneath him, and then pulls himself along by floor, away from Agon. He turns his back and clings to the wall, arms around his knees.

His shirt is damp at the shoulder.

For a while, Agon doesn't say anything. The room is quiet, a dim room with the blinders drawn and a birdcage in the corner. Sena can hear each of Agon's breaths—more guttural than usual.

Everything smells like beer.

"Ha."

Agon moves—and Sena feels the hard chin on his shoulder, the mouth at his ear.

"You're bleeding pretty badly, slut."

Sena's shoulder is wet. And something is damp between his legs. He smells blood and semen.

"Can't hide this, can you?"

Hatred closes Sena's throat. There's nothing he can say to explain away these injuries. There's no way he can hide them.

"Leave him. Tonight. And come here with your stuff. Or I'll show him our little movie."

Sena can still remember some parts of that night. The alcohol. Staggering into the hall to look for the bathroom. The hand on his shoulder. A voice—_Unsui's_ voice, saying _Sena, you're drunk._—at his side, a glimpse through the front windshield of a taxi. An apartment he didn't really recognize. Protesting, _Wait, I, I want to go back to Unsui._, and hearing, _I'm right here, Sena._

A calm, familiar face. A steady, gentle voice. Someone who _must_ be Unsui telling him, _Lie down, Sena, you'll feel better, just lie down..._

The body against his, the right height, the right breadth, the right shape and fit of everything...

The hand between his legs.

_Unsui, Unsui—_

_Shhh, Sena, I want to do it. Just—relax, Sena, let me just..._

"You think Unko-chan will enjoy watching you beg me to fuck you?"

Sena imagines the look on Unsui's face. To be told where Sena's been, those nights he said he was running errands for his mother, out buying something for his father, looking for something Panther requested in his latest e-mail. He tries to picture what kind of expression Unsui would have on his face, watching a DVD of his brother fucking his lover into a bloody mess.

"Up to you how much you want to hurt him, slut."

A pull at Sena's shirt—the collar opens where the bite is.

Something wet and hot and firm touches it. The teethmarks sting.

An arm goes around Sena's shoulders and Agon's licking at the wound as if he were a cat.

Sena looks straight ahead. In the corner of the room, adjacent to the window, the birdcage catches his eye.

The butterfly is gone. The cage looks empty. Sena stares at it, imagining the butterfly lying still and dead on the floor of its cage.

His eyes drift down.

The floor under the cage is covered in something. At first Sena thinks it's clothes, or bits of paper, but then the blinds move with a rush from the air conditioning, and the floor shimmers blue-green in curving shapes.

"Say it," says Agon. He's speaking quietly, and Sena doesn't have to turn around to see the same look from earlier in Agon's eyes, the look that is not angry and not mean but determined and...something. "Say it for me like you'd say it for him."

The floor is covered in dead butterflies.

Sena can't breathe.

"Tell me," repeats Agon, and his grip tightens.

"I love you," whispers Sena, almost choking.

Agon doesn't move.

"Agon." Sena feels faint. "I love you, Agon."

Against his shoulder, against the bite mark, Sena feels Agon smile.

A real smile, big and bright, full of childish joy.


End file.
